“The tires are louder than Mom’s car.”
“Expected for this class. Steering?”
“Light.”
“Too light?”
She considered it. “No. Just different.”
Trent shifted in the back seat, perhaps irritated that the conversation was happening around him instead of through him.
“You’ve trained her well,” he said.
Frank looked at him. “Her father taught her some. I taught her some. Mostly she pays attention.”
Emily glanced at Frank and smiled again.
The test drive lasted twenty-two minutes. When they returned, Marcus was outside near the brochure stand, carrying a stack of laminated feature sheets. He looked toward the sedan as Emily pulled in and gave her an encouraging thumbs-up.
She smiled at him through the windshield.
Trent saw it.
“Marcus,” he called as soon as they stepped out, “I thought you were handling the literature display.”
“I finished it.”
“Then check the service waiting area. Coffee station was low.”
Marcus’s expression stayed neutral. “Sure.”
Frank watched him leave.
“Does he usually do facilities work?” Frank asked.
Trent shrugged. “New people help wherever needed. Builds character.”
“Does selling cars build character?”
Trent laughed, uncertain whether Frank was joking. “When you earn the opportunity.”
Emily closed the driver’s door gently and looked at the car. “I want to see the numbers.”
That changed Trent instantly.
For the first time since taking over from Marcus, genuine energy appeared in his posture. “Great. Let’s go inside and get you written up.”
The showroom was brighter than the lot, all glass walls and polished floors, with the synthetic smell of new upholstery mixing with coffee and tire rubber. Sales desks were arranged in clusters, each with computer screens angled away from customers. A large digital board listed delivery targets for the month.
Frank noticed Marcus’s name near the bottom.
Two units sold.
Trent’s name was near the top.
Twenty-one.
Numbers did not tell him whether either man was good at the job, but they helped explain the internal hierarchy he had just watched outside. Trent had power because Trent produced. Marcus was new enough to be sent for coffee.
They sat at a desk along the far wall. Trent entered information into his computer, then turned the screen toward them with the first proposal.
The price of the car was roughly what the sticker had shown, but below it appeared a list of add-ons Emily had never requested. Paint protection. Tire protection. Theft marking.
A service package. A documentation fee significantly higher than the group’s published standard. Then came a financing estimate based on a high interest rate despite the fact that no credit application had yet been completed.
Emily stared at the page.
Frank said nothing for several seconds.
“This isn’t the advertised price,” Emily said finally.
“The base price is the advertised price,” Trent explained. “These are protection products. Most buyers take them.”
“I don’t want all of them.”
“They’re already applied to the vehicle.”
Frank leaned forward. “Which of these products are physically installed?”
Trent tapped the theft-marking line. “Vehicle identification protection.”
“And the paint coating?”
“That’s done during prep.”
“When?”
Trent’s eyes flicked toward him. “Before the vehicle goes on sale.”
Frank had reviewed enough dealer operations to know the answer was, at best, incomplete. Some products might have been applied, but group policy required optional protections to be presented clearly as optional rather than folded into a supposed mandatory package.
Emily pointed to the finance rate. “You haven’t even checked my credit.”
“This is just a working example.”
“Then why is it the number in the payment calculation?”
Trent sat back.
For the first time, Frank saw something like annoyance directed at Emily rather than him.
“Look,” Trent said. “Buying a car is complicated. You can spend all day picking apart every line, or you can focus on whether the monthly payment works.”